


wish i could be a little undrunk

by agrestenoir



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Humor, Romance, no miraculous
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-24 00:34:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18159104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agrestenoir/pseuds/agrestenoir
Summary: Marinette needs a distraction from Luka, their disastrous break-up, and her third-wheeling on Alya and Nino’s dates. Having a friends-with-benefits arrangement with Adrien Agreste seems like the perfect solution. Honestly, she gets to forget about Luka and have fun at the same time.No strings attached, right?(Haha. Good joke.)





	wish i could be a little undrunk

**JANUARY**

 

A couple days after New Year’s, Kim Chiến Lê hosts a party at the hotel owned by the Bourgeois family. Honestly, Marinette’s not sure how that works considering Chloe is his ex-girlfriend, but he must have made quite the impression with Mayor Bourgeois while dating her because the he (and the party guests) gets access to the patio and pool area on the rooftop for the whole night at no cost.

At this point, Marinette’s not really arguing. All she cares about is the fact that it’s a beautiful night, there’s alcohol, and the most gorgeous blonde she’s ever seen is sitting next to her at the bar.

For a moment, she forgets to be mad at Alya for dragging her out of their shared apartment for some “fresh air” instead of continuing her month-long ritual of crying over Chinese takeout, stress sketching, and embroidering their couch pillows. He’s bent over a glass of something dark that shines like honey… and _beyond_ fucking gorgeous (like _hot damn,_ call the fire department because she needs some _fucking water_ ).  Underneath the lantern light, his skin glows a soft ivory, something fragile but with biceps that could break her (like _please_ ), and he’s all long limbs and tousled hair that make her heart beat against her ribcage like a wild animal. 

Marinette’s already going in for the kill the moment she set her target. 

“Hey, stranger,” she says to him over the loud bass coming from the speakers just to their right. At this point, she doesn’t even notice the noise, too busy enthralled with the beautiful boy in front of her.

At the sound of her voice, he stares up at her. For a brief moment, she thinks she sees a flash of recognition in his eyes, but then he eases his features into a Cheshire grin and twinkling green eyes, and _fuck_ … Marinette’s a goddamn goner.

“It’s _you_ ,” he says, swiveling around in his stool to face her fully. He’s clean-cut, rosy cheeks, white teeth—all this perfection wrapped in an Adonis-shaped package—and Marinette swears he could be a model. “You clean up nice, Dupain-Cheng.”

 _Well shit_ , she realizes quickly. He does recognize her from somewhere, and for the life of her, Marinette can’t place him anywhere. She can’t fathom how she could forget such a beautiful creature existed. 

“It’s Marinette,” she tells him, holding her glass closer to keep herself from spilling it. The alcohol is working its magic tonight, making her tipsy enough to step outside her comfort zone, but not enough to make her forget tomorrow. (Obviously, it’s making her forget _today_ and _him_ , but she decides to be happy about the little victories.) “And you’re…?” 

“…Adrien?” he prompts, gesturing towards his chest, like that action alone can make her remember him. All it does is give Marinette an excuse to appreciate his light blue button-down and the tiny slip of _perfectly_ -sculpted collar bone. “Adrien Agreste? From lycée?” 

And _oh_ , there goes her heart. 

“Adrien!” Heat floods her face, her cheeks turning a warm, dusted pink. “Oh my god, I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you, holy shit—” 

He laughs, interrupting her world-altering realization. “It’s fine. I get that a lot.” 

“God,” she says, shaking her head. Reaching behind her, she fumbles to find the edge of a bar stool, just something to anchor herself as the world turns slippery. “It’s been too long… I thought you were in England for uni?” 

“I took some business classes at Oxford, yeah.” He shrugs helplessly, a quirk to his lips. “I’m back in Paris though—studying education at Sorbonne.”

 “Education?” she asks because he’d never stuck her as the professor type.

“I think I might go into teaching.” Eyes crinkling with a soft laugh, he rests his elbows on the bar top. “Not sure though, lots to explore, if I’m honest. I’m only twenty-one. Got my whole life ahead of me.” 

She nods in understanding. “So what brings you to Kim’s party?” 

“Chloe invited me,” he says. “I’m a friend of the family.”

“I remember that.” 

Adrien raises an eyebrow high as he takes a sip from his drink, peering at her over the edge of the glass. “Aren’t you at Esmod for fashion?”

“Graduating this year,” she tells him. But Marinette’s mind has moved past schools and history, onto important things… like the way Adrien looks under the moonlight. “But… that’s besides the point.” 

“Oh yeah?” She watches his eyes flicker across her face, lingering on her lips for a few seconds too long. “You got something else in mind?”

 Marinette doesn’t answer that, too busy staring at Adrien and taking in everything he has to give her. They share a look that’s too intense to be lost in memories of fourteen-year-olds and stupid crushes, something full of _want_ and _must haves_. With a gentle hand, she pulls the glass from his hand, still keeping her gaze locked with his, and slowly takes a sip. It _burns_ as it goes down, making her eyes prickle at the bitterness, but it just makes the world glitter.

“I told you I’m a friend of Chloe’s family, right?” Adrien asks her. 

“I don’t see what she has to do with us.” She sets the glass down beside them, and if possible, comes closer to him.

 “It means I’ve got access to a hotel room a few floors below.” He leans forward until their noses are just brushing, inches between breathes, until Marinette can nearly taste his whiskey-stained lips. “I think you’d like it. The décor is beautiful.” 

“Adrien,” she tells him earnestly. “If I’m checking out anyone’s décor this evening, it’d better be yours.” 

There’s a short pause, and then she loops her arms around his neck and pulls him down to seal the last few inches with a gentle kiss. His lips are just as warm and soft as she imagined, and when she takes her tongue to trace their seam, it burns in a _good_ way. Marinette spent most of lycée wondering what it’d be like to kiss Adrien Agreste, and now that she has, she doesn’t want to stop.

When Adrien finally pulls away, she’s trying to catch her breath when he says, “About that hotel room…” 

The alcohol makes her say, “yes.”

But her heart screams it louder.

 

 

* 

 

The hotel room is beautiful. Adrien’s right about that.

Still, like she told him before, she only has eyes for him—and _boy_ , what a certain wonder of the world _he_ is. 

The elevator ride down to the hotel room is full of soft giggles and fumbling hands, pulling collar buttons open and hooking chilly fingers under dress straps. Both are so willing and eager, the flow between them something easy and exciting. It’s something Marinette hasn’t felt in a _long_ time, not since Luka, when things were simple and she didn’t have to worry about losing them.

When Adrien reaches the hotel room, he slips the key card from his pocket, sliding it into the key, probably made harder from Marinette nipping along his jawline. As the door beeps for entry, he ushers her inside only to be whirled around and pressed up against the door. There’s barely a moment to spare before he’s leaning close and kissing down her neck, sucking and biting in a way that makes the world turn slippery. At least it’s January, she thinks absently, which means there’s a perfect excuse to wear a scarf come tomorrow. 

“Y-You’re _really_ good at this,” she says, her hands fluttering uselessly as they caress his shoulders (god, these fucking _Adonis arms!_ ). She inhales long and deep, desperate for air, because Adrien leaves her burning and breathless, like she’s been tied to a smoky pyre for too long. 

Adrien smiles against the corner of her neck. “Natural talent, honestly.” 

“You're quite full of yourself, aren’t you?” she teases. 

Her hands slip _down, down, down_ slowly but surely, reaching his waist and popping the button of his dark wash jeans. His hips cant forward into her touch, and his reply catches in his muffled groan. “J-Just quoting my r-raving reviews.”

Marinette likes the sound. With shaky fingers, she dips below the waistband of his boxers, which stills his movements entirely. Adrien trembles, hands flat against the door behind her, and he pounds a fist against the wood once as she reaches in and clasps him tightly. 

“Okay,” he says. “Bed.” 

“But I’m not done appreciating this décor—”

Her words are lost in a fit of giggles as Adrien wraps his arms around her waist and lifts her up, until she’s pressed against him—chest to chest—with thighs settled around his hips. He moves across the room, and once she feels the soft cotton of a made-up bed beneath her, she’s pulling his shirt over his head and throwing it across the room. 

In her chest, her heart beats like a wild animal against her ribcage, the loud and breathless _thump thump thump_ the only thing she can hear over the buzzing in her head. Adrien rocks back on his haunches and stares down at her, hands stroking the length of her legs, mouth agape with whatever speechless mantra he’s spinning. He’s so _beautiful_ , and she’s too far gone to think about anything else. If you’d asked her at fourteen whether she ever imagined she’d have Adrien like this, wholly and completely, coming undone at her simple touch, she’d have thought you were crazy.

Propping herself up on her elbows, she lets her eyes flicker over the aforementioned Adonis, the slope of his shoulders and the way the fabric of his jeans stretches over the muscles of his thighs. “God—” 

“I mean, you can call me that too,” he says, a smirk slowly stretching across his face. “Or you can keep calling me Adonis because I _really_ like—” And _shit_ , maybe she’s a little bit drunker than she thought, but he’s so fucking smug that Marinette lurches forward and cuts him off with a searing kiss. 

Pressed together, there’s little space between them, but his hands still inch down and tug her blouse out of her skirt. His fingers are hot against her skin, and it makes her stomach clench. Pulling away to let him pull her top off, she goes back to kissing him while his hands knead her bare sides. Everything is so slow and tangible, that it’s almost surreal in a way, but so absolutely lovely.

Suddenly, he’s overcome with a purpose and leans down to pepper open-mouthed kisses to her breasts, fingers dancing around her back to tango with her bra clasp. A soft moan falls from her lips, and she tightens her grip with her legs around his hips. While he’s busying himself, she finishes wiggling his jeans down around his thighs and reaches into his underwear to pull him out. His dick stands flushed and hard and pretty, and she wraps his hands around him, letting his loud groan echo between them like the sweetest music. 

“God,” he gasps.

A small smile tugs at her lips. “You can keep calling me that if you want. I don’t mind.”

That wicked smile—the one she’s grown quite fond of since this foray started—blossoms across his face. He cups her hips once more, thumbs slowly inching beneath her skirt and sliding her underwear down until it’s trapped around her knees. His hesitant hands reach between her legs and pause, like he doesn’t quite know what to do with them, but deft fingers parting her folds are enough to make her toes curl.

They aren’t even fully naked, and she’s already coming apart. It surprises Marinette. She didn’t think that Adrien Agreste still had this kind of effect on her. 

There’s a firm press against her wet slit, teasing and flittering along her lips. Marinette rolls her hips up into Adrien’s touch, chasing it with a vigor that left her stunned. He’s thrusting a finger in earnest now, knuckle deep, thumb tickling the edges of her clit. The sensation sets her ablaze, sparking frayed nerves into a frenzy, and she can’t remember a time when she last felt so raw and restless beneath someone else—definitely not since Luka.

He’s more sure in his movements, another finger adding to the mix, and thumb pressing down hard against her clit. All she can do is tangle her fingers in his blonde hair and pull him into a searing kiss, licking into mouth in a way that’s wet and messy, just like everything else right now. She can’t fathom how he got so talented (but she thanks whatever deity that’s listening for it). Honestly, she can’t even think straight, too busy chasing down her racing heart, which took off like a helicopter the moment he started touching her. 

 _God_ , Adrien Agreste is another thing entirely. 

He delves deeper and deeper with another finger, pumping hard and fast, until her legs are quivering and quaking. Her orgasm crashes over her like a tide wave, and it’s all she can do to hold on tight and let heavy gasps puff into his open mouth.

There’s a few moments for her to try to gather herself, not always one to fall apart before the show even starts, because that wasn’t exactly a feature of dating Luka. Adrien is already something so different and new, and she’s not ready for it to be over. Once she’s found her breath and her voice, Marinette manages one quick stroke of his flushed cock, feeling his hips jerk and stutter above her.

“Still up for more?” she asks softly. Her voice is hoarse and raspy, and she tries to play it off as intentional. He’s already got that confident smirk, and she doesn’t want to let it go to his head anymore than it already has. 

Adrien really doesn’t answer, just pulls his wallet out and the condom inside. His hesitation when he turns back is enough as she nods eagerly, already pulling her skirt and underwear off fully as he starts on his own pants. They fumble together back on the bed, and somehow they roll the latex on and find themselves a comfortable rhythm as he slides in. 

The feel is… _perfection_ if she has to be honest, in the disjointed and complete way that comes with first times. It’s been a while since she’s been with someone outside of Luka, who she spent a good three years with, so learning is just another part of the game. But Adrien Agreste is a quick learner. It’s a few awkward thrusts before he hikes her leg up over his shoulder, and she uses the leverage from the one wrapped around his waist to drive him deeper and harder. 

One hand is pressing white-knuckled into the skin of her leg, leaving bruises she’ll feel come morning, while the other sneaks between her legs and starts to play with her clit. Honestly, it’s almost mind-numbing how in tune he is with her body, fingers dancing across her like it’s an instrument he’s spent his whole life playing—like intimacy was always a natural progression for them. 

His gratifying groans fill the space between them, her own moans joining his in some disjointed symphony. In the mess, he ends up leaning over her, her knee pressed against his ribs, and his face nestled in the crook of her neck. Adrien nips and sucks at the skin, leaving her memories for tomorrow, and all she can do is mouth along his jawline and wish for this moment—this pleasure—never to end. 

It ends in the furious way it started. Marinette’s second orgasm of the night washes over, and Adrien manages a sloppy finish some time later. In the ease of the lamplight, they collapse against each other on the sweat-soaked sheets, shoulders heaving forward for air and heavy gasps filling the room. 

“That was something,” he says in the quiet that falls over them. 

Marinette chokes out a half-laugh, half-moan as she flops over on her stomach. “God,” is all she can manage though.

He perks up at the word, that Cheshire grin all too bright for this time of the night. She reaches out towards him with fumbling fingers, covering his mouth before he can speak. “Don’t even try it.” 

“What’s wrong?” he asks her, way too smug.

“You did good, but....”

“You saying you’ve had better, Miss Dupain-Cheng?” He quirks a brow high, almost challenging her to respond. Marinette refuses to answer because if he knew the truth—how brilliant she thought they fit together—he’d never stop talking about it. 

“Better stop talking while you’re ahead,” she warns him. “I’m still writing my review on your performance.”

Adrien huffs a soft laugh against the skin of her shoulder, pressing a kiss to the hollow behind her ear. “You know,” he muses suddenly. “I don’t think you called me by my name all night.”

The haze from her earlier drinks still lingers, but it’s not enough to stop the flush that burns heavy across her cheeks. “Oh my _god_ , I didn’t—”

“It’s okay.” At least he’s laughing because it could have been so much worse ( _God, what if she’d called him Luka?!)_. “I think I might request a name change with the city though. ‘Adonis’ just has a better ring to it, don’t’cha think? Just sort of… rolls right off the tongue.” She runs a hand through her sweat-tangled curls, shaking her head at his antics, and tries to distract herself from further embarrassment by thinking about all the other things he could be doing with that tongue right now. 

Beside her, his shoulders are shaking from laughter, and it’s so _so_ different than what she’s used to that it leaves her at a loss as to what to do next. With Luka, they’d cuddle and kiss to their heart’s content because that’s what they were scripted to do, and the one-night stands she’s found in the dead space between were just one and done—the sheets were still warm when she returned to them. Adrien Agreste throws her world off kilter but in a good and wholesome and _happy_ way.

“Thank you,” she tells him once things have settled, when he’s a little more calm and she’s a little more sober. “I really did have a good time tonight.” 

Adrien’s relaxed against the pillows, arms interlocked behind his head, as he stares at her with crinkled eyes and an easy smile. “Don’t mention it. I should honestly be thanking you.” 

“Oh?”

A soft rosy pink blossoms on his cheeks and dusts the tips of his ears. “Honestly, if you’d told fifteen-year-old Adrien that he’d get to sleep with Marinette Dupain-Cheng…” 

His words make her laugh again. “Don’t be ridiculous.” 

“I’m serious,” he says, nudging her with his elbow. 

“Sex with me has always been a dream of yours?” She raises a brow high, calling his bluff. 

But Adrien doesn’t back down, just grows a bit more quiet and a bit more sheepish. “Really.” 

“Well then,” she says, and no one can tell her that she doesn’t believe in opportunities. “That dream doesn’t have to end now, you know?” 

Adrien perks up. “Really?” he says again, like a broken record.

“How long do you have this room again?” Marinette asks him as she sits up in bed, the sheets pooling around her waist as she moves in for the attack. Slowly, she leans down and captures his lips in a deep kiss, hoping that it conveys what her words cannot. 

Adrien gets the idea though. “As long as I need it,” he says and, with strong hands, picks her up and settles her over his hips so that she’s straddling him. “Just depends how long you want to stay.”

Her dark locks tickle his skin as she stares at him in that same wicked way he’s perfected, looming hot and heavy over him. “Then I guess we’d better get started,” she tells him and comes forward to kiss him again.

His nails dig into the skin of her hips, and now she definitely knows there’ll be bruises tomorrow. 

But it’s worth it.

 

(So worth it.)

 

 

*

 

As wonderful as it was (and it was _really wonderful_ ), Marinette knows that a one-night stand is a _one-night_ stand. 

She leaves late that night and heads back to her shared apartment with Alya, still on cloud nine but soaring close to cloud ten. The rest of the weekend passes by, in huge leaps and lunges, but she feels lighter than she has in a long while. It’s not like she thinks she’ll ever see Adrien Agreste again, but for the short time she did, it was enough to last a lifetime.

 

 

And then comes Monday, and the rest of her life is quickly turned upside down.

**Author's Note:**

> So here it is! This idea has been burning a hole in my back pocket for months and months and I finally figured I'd post it for all of you. It's the whole idea of "friends-with-benefits become something more!" kinda story that no one asked for but get anyway. 
> 
> Feel free to hit me up on tumblr @agrestenoir!


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